


Won't Let You Fall

by carryaworld



Series: Witches and Ghosthunters [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rated T for language, Witch AU, briefly featuring some of the Karasuno crew, featuring my terrible use of memes, it all ends good I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 19:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: Kuroo, Kenma, and Akaashi spend most of their time banishing demons and doing witch errands. It isn't until they meet Bokuto that they find the last piece to their family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to my Buzzfeed Unsolved AU. Guess Iwa was right about that witch network, huh? Featuring my favorite boys, memes, and just a lil bit of angst.

Kuroo has always known what he is. It’s a family trait, inherited, even if it sometimes likes to skip entire generations.

 

It did not skip him.

 

He remembers perfectly the day he met Kozume Kenma for the first time. His parents treated it like the most important day in the world, which only made an already nervous Kuroo even shyer.

 

Kuroo was upset because his hair wouldn’t lie flat, and he didn’t _want_ to meet some other little boy his age. But Kenma, with his dark hair falling into his face, was kind if not quiet.

 

“He is a witch, and you are an amplifier, it’s only natural that you be friends,” his mother scolded on the walk over.

 

The Kozume’s had just moved in a few houses down, in the small suburban community that contained an above average number of magically inclined individuals.

 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Kuroo sulked, shoulders drawn up to his ears.

 

“Tetsurou,” his mother sighed, ruffling a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sure he’s very nice.”

 

Kuroo was doubtful, but in the end, his parents were right. Kenma not only became his friend, but also the most important person in his life.

 

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi interrupts his daydream.

 

Sharp eyes rest on the side of his face, and Kuroo angles his head to meet them, a smirk instinctively pulling at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Don’t,” Akaashi says flatly. “I won’t buy it for a second.”

 

Kuroo thinks himself honest, but Akaashi’s blunt brand of it is the kind that makes one’s head spin.

 

“Akaashi,” he complains, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling and escape that piercing look.

 

“I’m not asking you to talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I just don’t want you to lie to me about being fine.”

 

“I’m not lying,” Kuroo demurs.

 

Akaashi makes a low noise of disbelief in his throat but doesn’t press. It’s not fair to do so, not when there’s nowhere for Kuroo to escape to. There’s an unspoken agreement between them to respect boundaries because of how much time they spend together.

 

“What’s taking him so long?” Kuroo complains, changing the subject.

 

Kenma is meeting with a prospective client, not unusual as they sell their services as witches across the magical and non-magical community. Depending on the circumstances, Kenma prefers to meet them one on one, or with Akaashi along. Today, Kuroo suspects that Akaashi was left as a babysitter for him.

 

“Clients can be a pain in the ass,” is Akaashi’s nonchalant answer.

 

Kuroo groans loudly. “Well I’m bored. Want to go for a walk with me?”

 

Akaashi turns a page in the spell book he’s studying in answer. Kuroo huffs.

 

“Fine, be boring. I’ll be back before lunch.”

 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before ducking out of the café they’re loitering in, picking a mindless path through the strange city. It’s not the biggest one they’ve ever traveled to, so he’s not too worried about getting lost.

 

Kuroo finds his way into a park, basking in the shade the trees throw over his sweat-sticky skin. Summer isn’t in full force yet, but it’s getting there. At first glance, the park is like any other. There are children laughing and screaming, and the occasional fitness freak passes him on a jog.

 

Hmm. Maybe he’ll drag Akaashi out for a jog after the sun drops lower in the sky. Kenma won’t go, but Akaashi is willing enough to work out with Kuroo when he isn’t preoccupied with spells.

 

A flash of white crosses his vision and he turns, watching as a figure with extremely eccentric hair chases after a sheet of paper. Kuroo zeroes in on the paper, taking two long strides before he lunges, grasping the paper between careful fingers.

 

“Gah! Oh my god thank you! I never would have caught that,” the chaser babbles, nearly barreling right into Kuroo.

 

“Ah, no problem,” Kuroo straightens, eyes roaming over the stranger.

 

The hair is… a thing and it belongs to a built individual who can’t be more than two centimeters shorter than Kuroo himself. Wide golden eyes that seem nearly bottomless peer back curiously, studying Kuroo in return.

 

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou! Thank you again for saving my sketch!”

 

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo answers out of habit, glancing down at the piece of paper in his hand.

 

It is, in fact, a sketch. Or well, sketch seems like too loose a term for it. Really, it’s an artful rendition of the park scene Kuroo has found himself in.

 

“Wow,” he muses, handing the paper back to its owner.

 

Bokuto Koutarou’s entire being hums with life. “Yeah? I mean I think it’s pretty good, but some people don’t like it. They don’t have to like it, but I like when people like my art.”

 

Kuroo wants to laugh, caught up in it, but he smiles instead. “It’s good,” he reassures his new acquaintance.

 

Scarily good, right down to the way it seems the people he captured could step right off the page.

 

“Would you mind showing me some more of your stuff? I have a lot of time to kill anyway.”

 

Bokuto is more than happy to show him his art, dragging him back to where his setup is.

  
  
“I want to do a children’s book,” he admits as Kuroo flips through his sketchbook. “But it’s hard to put a full storyline together. I’m not great at staying on task.”

 

His voice holds regret and a tinge of sadness that can’t quite be pinned down.

 

Kuroo tilts his head, eyes skimming over the drawings. They’re so detailed and realistic that he feels as if he could reach out and touch the objects. There’s no way that this isn’t magical. Just the vibes Bokuto gives off make the hairs on Kuroo’s arm stand up.

 

“You know, you’re super talented,” he tells Bokuto.

 

Bokuto brightens up, and wow does he look like an owl with his eyes all big like that. “Do you really think so?”

 

Artists as a whole are a group who are severely self-critical, but Bokuto is on another level. It’s as if he doesn’t fully understand just how talented he is, in art and beyond.

 

“Yes,” Kuroo confirms. “Would you want to meet my friends? We’re not in town for very long but I think you’d like them.”

 

The smile on Bokuto’s face is so huge that Kuroo worries he’s gonna pull something. “Can I please?!”

 

*

 

Akaashi stares blankly when Kuroo returns to café with an enthusiastic Bokuto in tow.

 

“What is this.”

 

“Akaashi Keiji, this is Bokuto Koutarou. Bokuto, this is my friend Akaashi,” Kuroo says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

Bokuto is practically vibrating with excitement and dips his head in a half-bow. “Nice to meet you Akashi!”

 

“Akaashi.”

 

“Akaaaaashi! I’m so sorry,” Bokuto wails, his face turning a brilliant shade of red.

 

“It is nice to meet you as well, Bokuto-san.”

 

Kuroo throws his head back and laughs. Akaashi glares at him.

 

“I met Bokuto in the park, I thought you and Kenma might be interested in meeting him.”

 

He knows Akaashi catches the significance in his tone and doesn’t bother explaining further. Akaashi, who is infinitely more magic-sensitive than Kuroo, can probably feel whatever it is that makes Bokuto so strange.

 

Kuroo goes to get them something to drink and is cornered by Akaashi while he waits on the barista.

 

“Where did you _find_ him?” Akaashi hisses, uncharacteristically wound up.

 

“In the park,” Kuroo shrugs. “Almost literally bumped into him.”

 

Akaashi buries his face in his hands and lets out a long, shaky breath.

 

“You’re no slouch as an amp, Kuroo-san, but you have _nothing_ on him. He radiates life like no one I’ve ever met.”

 

A wry smile pulls at Kuroo’s mouth. “I kind of figured. You know I’m not very magically sensitive, and even I could tell.”

 

“Kenma-san is going to kill you,” Akaashi says half to himself, recovering from his shock.

 

“Nah, he loves me. Besides, I think Bokuto is better suited to your affinity.”

 

Kuroo should probably watch his back, because Akaashi might just cast a nasty itching spell on him based off the look he receives.

 

But, because Kuroo can’t shut his mouth, he continues, “Things would be a lot easier with two amps, right? Especially one that connects with you?”

 

Akaashi is definitely considering punching him now.

 

“Perhaps,” Akaashi allows begrudgingly. “He’d have to agree to stay with us first.”

 

Kuroo’s mouth pulls downward a little and he starts walking back toward where they left Bokuto.

 

“Call it a hunch, but I think he’ll want to stay.”

 

*

 

“Kuro, what did I tell you about bringing home strays?” Kenma asks as he’s faced with Bokuto’s full energy.

 

“You like Akaashi,” Kuroo reasons, an appeasing smile on his lips.

 

Kenma looks at Bokuto, then Akaashi, and then back to Bokuto. He frowns.

 

“That’s not the same.”

 

“Kenma,” he says, much softer.

 

Akaashi is entertaining Bokuto now, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful as Bokuto rambles on about some of the places he’s been.

 

“He needs us.”

 

Kenma is quiet as he carefully considers Kuroo’s words. Kuroo doesn’t need to be told to know what’s going through Kenma’s head. Kenma is taking all the information he knows about Bokuto and assessing it piece by piece.

 

In their down time, Kuroo has asked once about Bokuto’s family and learned very quickly that it’s one of the few things Bokuto doesn’t like to talk about. He’s as lost as Akaashi was when they first encountered him, and seemingly ignorant about his status as an amplifier.

 

“Okay,” Kenma says finally, pushing some of his bleached hair back from his face. “But I’m not the one who’s going to explain magic to him.”

 

“Akaashi will do it,” Kuroo says confidently.

 

Bokuto, true to Kuroo’s prediction, jumps on the opportunity to join them. Akaashi snubs Kuroo for a full week over it but he agrees to teach Bokuto about magic. In reality, he’s the best choice for it. Kenma lacks the energy and Kuroo lacks the knowledge to properly explain the magical world to Bokuto.

 

Bokuto is an eager learner, if not easily distracted, and Akaashi does well at guiding him along.

 

“What do you mean, I can’t do my own magic?” he pouts over one of their first lessons.

 

Akaashi knew this discussion was coming, and mentally armed himself for it.

 

“You are an amplifier, not a witch, Bokuto-san. Kuroo is like you, he can’t use magic either,” Akaashi explains with all the patience he can muster.

 

Bokuto still looks put off. “But why, Akaashi?”

 

Expression thoughtful, Akaashi places both of his hands palm up on the table.

 

“Nobody really knows for sure,” he admits. “Maybe it’s the way our bodies handle magic differently?”

 

With his head inclined like that, Bokuto is doing his best impression of an owl. “If I worked out more, could I use the magic?”

 

“No Bokuto-san, it’s not like that,” Akaashi shakes his head. “Maybe it’s genetics, but you’d have to ask Kuroo-san about such things. He’s actually good at chemistry and science.”

 

 Bokuto makes a face. “No thanks. I guess I can live without it, since I get to help you ‘Kaashi!”

 

It shouldn’t make Akaashi feel pleasantly warm, but it does anyway. “Yes, you do,” he agrees, with the slightest hint of a smile.

 

His other explanations are a little more complicated. They test Bokuto’s alignment, even though it’s fairly obvious that he’s most connected with living things, like Akaashi.  

 

“Kenma-san aligns with earth and stone, and oddly enough, he’s pretty in tune with people. Differently from Sugawara-san though, who’s more of an empath.”

 

Bokuto nods along as if he understands, even though most of this is too much to absorb at once.

 

“And Kuroo is also stone and earth, which is why he amplifies so well for Kenma. That, and they’ve been working together for a long time,” Akaashi concludes.

 

It’s funny, how this each of their alignments is reflected in their apartment. Akaashi is very much a traditional witch, keeping live plants in his room and a collection of various other knickknacks used for spell-casting.

 

Kenma is the opposite. His influence on the apartment is the gaming system and pile of various games and manga, a stark refusal to conform to the norms.

 

Kuroo, though not a witch, is the chemistry books and the small rock collection that Akaashi thinks is rather impressive.

 

Bokuto is new, and he doesn’t have a place here yet, but he thinks he might be the half-dried canvases leaning in corners and pencils tucked into random places. He hopes he is. His blood sings at the possibility of this being _home_.

 

*

 

Kuroo has to commend himself for bringing Bokuto into their group, because it was a great decision.

 

Bokuto is always down for an adventure with him, even if it’s just running around the corner to the store when they’re bored. Which is exactly what happens on a semi-regular basis.

 

“Hey Kenma, look at what we got! Isn’t it great?” Bokuto yells, swinging a grocery bag around with enough force to take someone out.

 

Kenma doesn’t even look up, too used to Bokuto’s shenanigans. “It’s from the dollar store, how good can it be?”

 

It takes a moment for it to sink in, and then Kuroo’s on the floor, laughing that laugh that gives small children nightmares. Akaashi slinks sullenly out of the room as Bokuto bursts into delayed giggles, arms clutched around his stomach.

 

Through it all, Kenma still doesn’t look up from what he’s playing.

 

He’s a savage like that, catching them off guard with memes when they least expect. Akaashi never seems to be amused by it, but Kuroo and Bokuto lose their minds.

 

“Kenma-san, we need to have these spells ready for Thursday,” Akaashi says, trying to prod Kenma into helping him.

 

Kenma ignores him, engrossed in his game, and unaware that he is being spectated by both Bokuto and Kuroo, who have nothing better to do than act like this is a sitcom.

 

“The client is going to be upset if we don’t have it done,” Akaashi persists, brows pinching together in frustration.

  
He’s the responsible one, always making sure they meet deadlines and get where they need to go. Kuroo helps by making the travel plans, but it’s a team effort to motivate Kenma a lot of the time.

 

Kuroo snorts and has a go at trying to get a reaction. “Kenma, someone is going to die if you don’t stop playing your game and do the spell.”

 

“Then perish.”

 

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose as Bokuto howls with laughter. “Oh he got you guys gooooood.”

 

“Kindly shut up, Bokuto-san.”

 

“Yeah, shut up Bo.”

  
  
“Heeeeeyyyyyyy!”

 

Kenma finally looks up, smirking at Bokuto. “You know I had to do it to them.”

 

“Kenma, you’re my best friend and all, but you’re the worst,” Kuroo cries dramatically.

 

Bokuto leans over to pat his head. “There there.”

 

*

 

Taking Bokuto when they deal with demon and ghost situations ends up being oddly entertaining. Usually it’s a somber affair, but the first time they step into a haunted home, they get a shock.

 

“Hey there demons, it’s ya boi!” Bokuto hollers, waving his arms around theatrically.

 

“Bo… c’mon man,” Kuroo groans, though he desperately wants to laugh.

 

“What?” Bokuto pouts. “Aren’t we the ghoul boys?”

 

Akaashi is busying himself with preparations. “Let him be. If he gets killed, it’s his fault.”

 

“AKAAASHIII.”

 

Kuroo gives Bokuto’s shoulder a consoling pat, his face split into a smirk.

 

Kenma is on his DS, a pre-exorcism ritual for him. “Akaashi, I won’t clean up the mess,” he warns.

 

Akaashi sighs and holds out a hand to Bokuto. “Come here.”

 

Properly chastised, Bokuto goes to him and places his hand in Akaashi’s.

 

The relationship between witches and amplifiers is a complicated one. Witches can use any amplifier, but the potency of the amplification depends on how closely they align with the amplifier. Proximity also impacts the efficacy of the amplifier and is strongest through touch.

 

Akaashi has likened it to different conductivities, but Bokuto doesn’t try and think too hard on it. What is important is that he can work with Akaashi and make Akaashi stronger.

 

It’s an admittedly narrow viewpoint, but Akaashi is the de facto center of Bokuto’s universe. He likes this, even if it gets a bit scary sometimes.

 

*

 

“Kenma-san?” Akaashi says, breaking a rare moment of quiet.

  
They’re working together on the foundation of spell, having shooed Bokuto and Kuroo out of their hair for a few hours. Later steps will require the amps, but for now, room to breathe is much more valuable.

 

Kenma makes a noncommittal sound that indicates that he’s listening.

 

“Have you noticed that Bokuto-san’s abilities as an amplifier are affected by his moods?”

 

Sitting up straight, Kenma’s eyes slide to him curiously.

 

“No. He and I don’t align well.”

 

Akaashi rolls a sprig of sage between his fingers, nose wrinkling at how pungent it is.

 

“I would have to collect more data, but it seems like he’s less powerful when his mood is low,” he murmurs half to himself.

 

Kenma pulls the alder towards himself and starts breaking it down. “Bokuto-san is very unusual.”

 

There’s an unspoken ‘you know that’ implied, and Akaashi directs his attention back to what he’s doing. Kenma’s education is less formal than his own, but both of them know Bokuto is not a normal amplifier by any means.

 

“You pay a lot of attention to him,” Kenma tosses the observation out.

 

Akaashi slides him a glare. From Kenma, that’s as blatant as call-outs come.

 

“He’s the first amp I’ve really connected with,” Akaashi deflects. “Not all of us meet our match as kids.”

 

Kenma’s lips curve up a smidge in a rare display of affection. “No,” he agrees. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

 

The urge to walk away from this conversation is strong, but Akaashi stubbornly stays in his seat. “I do not have a crush on Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says stubbornly.

 

“Keiji.”

 

“Really, this is the thanks I get for keeping quiet about your crush on Kuroo-san?”

 

Kenma flicks him a dirty glance, and Akaashi gives him a blank look in return.

 

“Only an idiot could miss that, Kenma-san. If it makes you feel better, he has a big stupid crush on you back.”

 

“It doesn’t negate your crush on Koutarou,” Kenma delivers the fatal blow.

 

Well, there it is. Akaashi will duck and dodge, but he won’t flat out lie.

 

“I don’t know how I feel,” is the most honest answer he can give. “Bokuto-san is an incredible person.”

 

Kenma nods to himself, pushing the next ingredient toward Akaashi. “You’re not a rusher.”

 

No, no he is not.

 

Akaashi will wait, and nurse his feelings until he’s sure exactly what they are, and what he wants to do about them.

 

“Pass me the burdock please.”

 

*

 

Bokuto ends up being a terrible influence on Kuroo, because the two of them start running around and being idiots during jobs.

 

Kenma’s largest headache was a bridge inhabited by a demon they were supposed to get rid of.

 

“Oh! I know this place!” Bokuto is, as per usual, at a ten when Kenma needs him at a two. “It was on that Buzzfeed Unsolved show!”

 

Kuroo, who seems to feed off Bokuto’s wild energy in a non-magical way, arches an eyebrow. “Yeah? Did they actually see the demon?”

 

“Huh? No, of course not. That’s why it’s ‘unsolved,’ Kuroo,” Bokuto grins.

 

Akaashi is wearing his ‘I’ve gone to my happy place’ expression while he digs through his bag, leaving Kenma to suffer.

 

“Well, we’re gonna solve it,” Kuroo declares. “Hey Goatman, you wanna come out here and say hello?”

 

Bokuto’s eyebrows are doing a funny thing that’s supposed to be intimidating but really just makes Kenma have to swallow a reluctant laugh. Naturally, nothing appears in response to the taunt.

 

Kuroo pouts. “Fuck you, Goatman! Aren’t you going to do anything about us being on your bridge?”

 

“Clearly not,” Kenma says dryly, even though the demon is question does have a history of throwing people off the bridge.

 

If such a thing were to happen right now, Kenma probably wouldn’t even be mad because Kuroo kind of asked for it. Mercifully, before either of his loud friends can get tossed, Akaashi finishes his preparations and distracts Bokuto.

 

“Done?” Kenma asks Kuroo, head down as he finishes his own spell.

 

It’s a strong banishing spell, though not as strong as the binding spell Akaashi has cooked up. Having Bokuto around really kicks things up a notch. Kenma, however, is all about that minimum effort, and he’s confident it’ll get rid of the demon in question, even if it’s not pulsing with power like Akaashi’s spell.

 

“Yes,” Kuroo says sheepishly.

 

Kenma takes his hand and initiates the spell. “Then let’s meet your Goatman.”

 

Goatman, sadly, is an all-around let down. Even Kenma feels a touch put out when it takes less than five minutes to send him back to wherever he came from.

 

He’s a scrawny thing, and only screams curses at a moderate volume when Akaashi flicks salt at him. All in all, not the scariest demon Kenma has ever had to deal with.

 

“That was lame,” Bokuto complains on the train home.

 

“Witch work is boring, Bokuto-san, get used to it.”

 

*

 

Bokuto loves to watch Akaashi work on spells. He often lingers, squishing into the chair next to Akaashi, swallowing all his questions while Akaashi does his thing. It’s one of the few times that Bokuto manages to be quiet.

 

“It doesn’t bother you that I watch, does it ‘Kaashi?” he asks one day when he’s feeling particularly low.

 

Most of the time he’s content to monopolize Akaashi’s attention, but sometimes there’s an itch at the back of his mind that tells him that Akaashi doesn’t like him. That he’s just a nuisance.

 

Akaashi looks up from the herbs he’s mixing with a frown. “No, Bokuto-san, your presence makes all my spells much stronger.”

 

Bokuto perks up a bit at that. “It does?”

 

“Yes, Bokuto-san. You don’t have to stay with me all the time though, I’m sure it’s boring for you.”

 

Vehemently shaking his head, Bokuto beams. “No ‘Kaashi, I like watching you.”

 

Akaashi can feel a blush rising in his cheeks and forces his gaze downwards. “Why don’t you bring your sketch pad over here, Bokuto-san? Then we can both be productive.”

 

“That’s a great idea Akaashi!”

 

Elated, he bounds off to retrieve his sketchbook and pencils. While he’s gone, Akaashi shifts his materials around so that there’s space on the table. Bokuto plops back down in his seat, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he focuses.

 

Akaashi isn’t sure if he does it for the physical intimacy, or because he knows it strengthens Akaashi’s spells, but Bokuto tangles their ankles together under the table.

 

Bokuto is usually fidgety, but when he draws or paints he becomes a statue. It’s as if he’s channeling all of his energy into just his hand as he curls over the sketchbook.

 

Every once and a while Akaashi nudges him to remind him to stretch and sit up properly. Bokuto smiles sheepishly in response, his eyes alight.

 

He’s filled to the brim with something too bright for Akaashi to look at when he works on his art. It’s a distraction to share a workspace with him, because Akaashi constantly catches himself watching things come to life with every stroke of the pencil.

 

It’s rather detrimental to his productivity, but the peaceful moments are something he won’t give up.

 

“Hey Bo?” Kuroo says one day, when he’s paused to peer over Bokuto’s shoulder.

 

“Hmmm?” Bokuto hums, completely zoned into what he’s working on.

 

“How exactly do you sell your art?”

 

Akaashi listens but doesn’t look up from what he’s doing.

 

“Huh? Oh, I have a website, isn’t that awesome?”

 

Kenma is engaged now, peering at them curiously. “Can I see it?”

 

Bokuto finally drags himself away and bounces over to his laptop to pull the page up for Kenma.

 

“Not bad,” Kenma says quietly as he scrolls through. “Would you mind if I made some changes?”

 

“Would you?” Bokuto asks, leaning into Kenma’s space. “You’re so good at computer stuff!”

 

Kenma rolls his eyes, edging away from Bokuto. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

 

Kuroo snickers, but Bokuto ignores him as he surrenders his laptop. “I would be very grateful Kenma!”

 

Kenma’s eyes are already locked back on the screen. “Yeah? Then don’t eat my mochi out of the freezer.”

 

Bokuto splutters for a moment, ready to deny it, but at Kuroo’s look he gives in and skulks back to his art. Akaashi hides a smile behind his hand.

 

*

 

Akaashi’s friends are idiots. Kenma, who made the mistake of napping on the apartment couch, ends up the victim of one of Kuroo and Bokuto’s pranks. His bleached hair, normally left be, is now rather artfully pulled back with braids and hair clips the likes of which are only found in hell-sites such as Claire’s.

 

It’s nothing more than a deliciously idiotic moment, punctuated by Kuroo’s barking laughs and Bokuto’s hysterical wheezing. But to Akaashi, it is everything. His own answering laugh is unpracticed and clumsy, soft where the others are loud.

 

Bokuto notices immediately, and the eyes that flick to Akaashi are wide with awe.

 

“Akaashi,” he says, so reverently that Akaashi can’t breathe right.

 

Kuroo grins, sly and pleased while Kenma regards him with affection, lips turned up just a touch.

 

“You guys… you guys are my family.”

 

Akaashi’s voice is raw, and it’s not as eloquent as he would have liked, but it’s out there now. He’s felt this way for a long time, and when Bokuto slotted in as the final piece, it shook him to his core. Akaashi has caged his heart in with logic and reason for most of his life. It’s time to let go.

 

Bokuto’s arms close around him first, thick and solid and supportive. Kuroo comes after, draping his lanky limbs over the two of them, and Kenma squeezes in somewhere in between.

 

“You’re my family too,” Bokuto whispers raggedly.

 

“Keiji,” Kenma says, soft and even, and that’s what breaks him.

 

He tells himself that it’s only because Bokuto is the closest, but when he leans most of his weight into Bokuto, it’s a little more selfish than that.

 

“Hey hey hey,” Bokuto murmurs soothingly in a voice softer than Akaashi’s ever heard it.

 

“Sorry,” Akaashi sniffs, pretending that he isn’t leaking a tear or two onto Bokuto’s shirt.

 

Kuroo pinches him lightly. “No apologies.”

 

Akaashi elbows him in retaliation, which sends the whole hug cluster staggering. Kenma bails first with a disgruntled noise, then Kuroo, leaving just Bokuto who keeps them from toppling over.

 

“I got you,” Bokuto says, and in that moment Akaashi just _knows_ that it’s the truth.

 

No matter what, these people have his back.

 

The moment comes to a natural end when Kenma pouts, tugging on his hair. “Keiji, help.”

 

Disentangling himself from Bokuto, Akaashi clicks his tongue as he starts sorting through the mess that is Kenma’s hair.

 

“Who did the braids?” he asks curiously.

 

Bokuto beams. “Me! My sister taught me so I’m great at them!”

 

Akaashi snorts under his breath as he gently unwinds them. “You sure are, Bokuto-san.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah there it is, the angst. Please be advised that Akaashi's parents do suck, though it's not as blatant as it could be.

Akaashi is dreading his scheduled visit home.

 

“Don’t go. Screw them, Akaashi,” Kuroo says, scowling into the cast iron skillet he’s stirring.

 

The weather is fair, so they’re camping for a few days. Kuroo is good at scheduling camping days just before Akaashi has a visit home because he knows it takes the edge off. On the other side of the campfire, Kenma frowns.

 

“You feel obligated to go.”

 

Kenma’s words are quiet. Blunt. Akaashi appreciates it, even as he wishes Kenma wasn’t quite so good at reading people. It’s fortunate that Bokuto has wandered off, because Akaashi isn’t sure what he’d think of this conversation.

 

“They’re my parents,” he says neutrally.

 

Kuroo’s scowl deepens as he scoffs. “In name only.”

 

“Kuro,” Kenma reprimands.

 

Unhappily, Kuroo relents after flicking Akaashi an apologetic look, which Akaashi accepts with a small nod.

 

“It’s only to keep up relations within the community,” Akaashi says, because that’s what he needs this meeting to be: purely business.

 

He can’t keep hoping that his parents will somehow become warmer, more loving parents like Kuroo’s or Kenma’s, or that they’ll accept his sexuality. It’s not realistic, and Akaashi is a practical person. But hope is, as always, dangerous.

 

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Kenma asks.

 

It’s a legitimate offer. They’ve met Akaashi’s parents on more than one occasion, and his friends would go to the ends of the world for him. His parents hate Kuroo though and look snidely down their noses at Kenma for his less prestigious bloodline.

 

“No, I don’t think that would be wise,” Akaashi sighs.

 

“Take Bokuto with you,” Kuroo says flippantly.

 

It might have been fine, just a fleeting comment, had Bokuto not returned to the campsite at that exact moment.

 

“Take me where?” he asks, gold eyes alighting immediately to Akaashi’s apprehensive face.

 

“Nowhere,” Akaashi says. “Kuroo-san is just trying to be funny.”

 

Kuroo looks thoughtfully at Bokuto. “No, I’m not, I think it’s a good idea.”

 

“It is not,” Akaashi disagrees, but Kenma’s lack of argument is telling.

 

“Take me _where_?” Bokuto repeats, more insistent.

 

His fists are clenched at his sides, and Akaashi instantly feels bad for talking about him when he’s right there.

 

“Sorry, Bokuto-san,” he apologizes. “We were discussing my planned visit home, and Kuroo-san believes it would be a good idea if you accompanied me.”

 

At his words, Bokuto relaxes, his head tilting curiously. “Why’s that?”

 

“My parents aren’t very nice people. I’m sure Kuroo thinks that if I bring you along, it’ll throw them off balance.”

 

“Would it?” Bokuto prompts, his unwavering focus directly on Akaashi.

 

Akaashi is forced to seriously consider it. Bokuto doesn’t seem to be from old blood, which they’ll have opinions on, but he’s such a strong amplifier that it might not matter. On top of that, just his charm is disarming.

 

“I… yes. Maybe,” Akaashi admits, then frowns. “They won’t be kind to you, Bokuto-san. This isn’t something you have to do.”

 

Bokuto is silent for a beat, thinking, and then he beams at Akaashi. It’s like the sun has come out from whatever cloud it’d been hiding behind.

 

“That’s okay Akaashi, I’m used to it! Besides, I want to help you!”

 

He’s so earnest it makes Akaashi’s chest hurt.

 

“Okay, Bokuto-san. But if you change your mind, you can back out,” Akaashi relents.

 

Bokuto’s smile softens. “I won’t. You can count on me, Akaashi!”

 

“Thank you,” Akaashi murmurs.

 

Kuroo clears his throat and sends Bokuto off to grab some ingredients out of the cooler. Kenma watches Akaashi, but dinner is otherwise a peaceful affair.

 

*

 

Bokuto fixes a smile determinedly on his face. Akaashi has been quiet since the moment they got to the train station. Though he’s usually quiet, Bokuto can feel the tension rippling off of him and there’s a permanent unhappy set to his mouth.

 

Akaashi’s parents really must not be nice.

 

Bokuto can relate, but it makes his stomach clench to think about Akaashi suffering through that. Kuroo has already warned him to keep his mouth shut, but Bokuto thinks that it’s going to be rather challenging. If there’s one thing he’s less than stellar at, it’s avoiding putting his foot in his mouth, even if he means well.

 

“You can still back out, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi misinterprets his self-censure as cold feet.

 

Bokuto shakes his head hard enough that it threatens to dislodge his styled hair. “Nope. I’m seeing this through with you, Akaashi.”

 

Akaashi looks at him for a long moment, his dark eyes inscrutable. “Alright. I’m sorry in advance if they say anything rude to you.”

 

“Hmmm,” Bokuto hums, and gives Akaashi another broad smile so that he knows it’s fine.

 

The greeting at the door is icy. Akaashi’s given name is used, but with an honorific tacked on stiffly. His greeting in return is equally as cool and formal. Bokuto, for all his questionable childhood, has no idea how to deal with this.

 

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou, please forgive the intrusion,” he interjects, a touch too loud and a touch too early.

 

Ah, hell.

 

All eyes lock onto him. If he’d thought Akaashi’s stare was unnerving, well… he has nothing on his parents. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

 

Normally Bokuto likes all the attention to be on him, but this is something entirely different. He wants to run, or fall through the floor, or vanish. Akaashi is a witch, could he vanish him?

 

Akaashi does not vanish him. Instead, he smiles a smile that sends an odd chill down Bokuto’s spine.

 

“Bokuto-san is an amplifier, as you may have noticed,” he says, keeping his voice level. “He’s been working with me.”

 

“You don’t say,” his mother comments, her shrewd eyes picking Bokuto apart bit by bit.

 

He nods his head enthusiastically, letting Akaashi shuffle him along as they migrate into a more formal area for tea after slipping off their shoes. Conversation that means nothing to him crowds his ears as the Akaashi’s catch up on business.

  
Bokuto, having not been raised in the magical community as Akaashi was, understands almost none of it. The only gist that he gets is that there’s more politics than magic involved. Snide comments are thrown around about Kuroo and Kenma, making Bokuto tense in his seat.

 

Akaashi bumps his foot under the table with a stern sideways glance, and Bokuto sinks down in the chair, lips pressed together in an effort to stay silent.

 

“Keiji-kun, I trust that you’re keeping up with your studies?” his mother intones.

 

“Of course,” he replies tonelessly.

 

“And have you found a nice young woman of witch heritage yet?” his father continues the interrogation.

 

The mood in the room instantly shifts. Akaashi’s eyes narrow into slits, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

 

“No.”

 

There’s more anger, more spite in that one word than Bokuto has heard in ages. His friend is uncomfortable, upset even, and suddenly Bokuto understands why Kuroo and Kenma didn’t want him to come here alone.

 

“Akaashi is the strongest witch I’ve ever met!” he blurts, drawing the attention of Akaashi’s parents back to him.

 

It takes the heat off of Akaashi, which is all he can offer at the moment. Bokuto is not a genius, nor a politician, but he’s good at making everyone look at him.

 

Akaashi sighs silently in relief. The compliment itself would be nicer if Akaashi didn’t know that Bokuto has only met a handful of witches. Still, it’s easy to see that he means it, and that he intended to distract. And, well, it’s not as if his parents know any better.

 

They’re also not pinning him to the table about his sexuality anymore, which is a mercy he hadn’t expected.

 

Both of them stare at him, and his father says cuttingly, “Is that so?”

 

Bokuto bobs his head enthusiastically, taking the opportunity to ramble on about how hard Akaashi works on learning spells.

 

It’s not until Bokuto excuses himself to the restroom that Akaashi is left alone with his parents.

 

“I’ve never met such a strong amplifier, even if he’s an airhead. Where did you find him?” his mother asks, her expression more curious than severe for once.

 

“Kuroo,” is all Akaashi offers.

 

Best to keep it short and simple. Knowing that Kuroo was the one to link their son to a powerful amp will make his parents nuts.

 

As predicted, his father scowls. “And how does Kuroo know such a gifted amp? His family connections aren’t that old or that deep.”

 

“Kuroo talks to people. This isn’t the 17thcentury, not everything is about family connections,” Akaashi says, his tone cutting.

 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” his father hisses, and things are fixing to turn into an all-out verbal battle when Bokuto barrels back into the room.

 

Bokuto’s interruption breaks the tension, but it rebuilds itself right up until they’re being seen out.

 

“You have until the end of the year to straighten yourself out, Keiji-kun. If you do not comply, we will have you written out of the will, and everything else.”

 

Akaashi angles his head, looking into his father’s eyes. It stings, but this is the last straw.

 

“Then write me out now and save yourself the agonizing wait. I’m not changing who I am.”

 

Bokuto glares over Akaashi’s shoulder, his normally warm eyes hostile.

 

“Keiji,” his mother pleads, softer, but Akaashi turns on his heel and walks out the door, Bokuto right behind him.

 

They make it almost five blocks away, nearly to the train station, when he finally crumbles. The tears are an annoyance and he tries to swipe them away, the movements angry and jerky.

 

Bokuto is unable to stand this and drops an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, pulling him close. Akaashi goes reluctantly, embarrassed at himself, even though Bokuto’s touch is a welcome comfort.

 

“It’ll be okay,” Bokuto murmurs, his head inclined to rest against Akaashi’s where they stand in the middle of the sidewalk. “I know you guys kind of adopted me, but… I’m here for you too.”

 

Akaashi takes a steadying breath and wills the tears to dry up. This is nothing new. He’d expected it, even if the foreknowledge couldn’t take away the sting.

 

“Thank you for coming with me today, Bokuto-san,” he says, unable to make such bold declarations about his found family when he feels so raw.

 

Bokuto hums softly in response. “Hey hey hey, Akaashi?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Want to get some ice cream? We don’t have to tell Kuroo or Kenma.”

 

“You’re a child.”  
  


“So…. Ice cream?”

 

“Yes, Bokuto-san. Let’s get ice cream.”

 

Sweets can’t fix the loss, but Bokuto’s constant chatter and small kindnesses are enough to patch the hole in his chest.

 

*

 

Bokuto eyes his phone nervously as pressure starts building at his temples. He can’t seem to get past this art block and Mio has been texting him incessantly.

  
Normally he welcomes contact from his sister, as they rarely get to see each other in person, but now is just not a good time. He can feel Akaashi’s gaze on him as he squirms in his seat and it adds to his distress. Now Akaashi is going to think he’s an idiot who can’t sit still.

 

It’s not his fault he doesn’t work well with deadlines. He needs new things to replenish his online store because Mio is struggling with her school fees. Helping Kuroo and crew with jobs has lent him a bit of extra income, but it’s still not always enough.

 

He’s not enough.

 

His pencil tumbles from his fingers and he lets his head drop onto the table, ignoring the way that his phone buzzes demandingly.

 

Akaashi, who is used to Bokuto’s small meltdowns over art blocks at this point, nudges at his elbow.

 

“Bokuto-san,” he prompts quietly.

 

Normally this is where Bokuto begs him for attention and lets the hard-won compliments soothe him. Today… today that’s not enough. His eyes burn with the threat of tears and he pushes back from the table before he can spill his guts all over it.

 

“I’m going for a walk to clear my head, I’ll be back for dinner!” he says with as much cheer as he can muster.

 

And before the startled Akaashi can get a word in, he flees, leaving his phone buzzing away next to his sketchbook.

 

Bokuto makes it out of sight of the building before the tears break free, running down his cheeks and blurring his vision. He wipes them away and keeps walking until the ground doesn’t feel as if it’s falling out from under his feet.

 

*

 

Kuroo slouches out of his room to find Akaashi staring blankly at Bokuto’s phone on the kitchen table.

 

“Where’s Bo?” he yawns, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

 

He and Kenma stayed up far too late playing a game, and even now at mid-afternoon, Kenma is still sleeping.

 

Akaashi frowns. “I’m not sure. I thought he was just having one of his moods but then he ran out and left his phone behind.”

 

Kuroo makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and both of them turn their attention to the phone. He knows as well as Akaashi does at this point that this is not normally how Bokuto operates.

 

Hesitantly Kuroo reaches out and flips the phone over so that it faces up, wincing at all the notifications. Most of them are meaningless, but there’s a handful from one contact that attract his attention.

 

**Mio-chan** : please don’t worry about it Oniisan. :(

 

**Mio-chan** : it’s not your responsibility

 

**Mio-chan** : answer your phone!

 

**Mio-chan** : Kou?

 

**Mio-chan** : Kou seriously

 

**(3 missed calls from Mio-chan)**

 

**(1 voicemail from Mio-chan)**

**Mio-chan:** call me when you can, Kou

 

“His sister…?” Akaashi ventures.

 

Kuroo shrugs. “I guess so.”

 

None of them know much about Bokuto’s family beyond the existence of his sister. Bokuto skypes her occasionally, and she’s probably the person he texts the most.

 

“Do you think something bad happened?”

 

Akaashi always sounds serious, but Kuroo can tell he’s worried. Sighing softly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

“I don’t know,” Kuroo says. “Let’s give him space for now.”

 

The afternoon passes too slowly. Kenma emerges from his nap and after taking one look at their worried faces, takes his game to the couch.

 

Dinner time comes and goes, Akaashi’s restlessness increasing until the sun drops lower in the sky and he can’t take it any longer.

 

Kuroo looks up as he stomps over to where he and Kenma are sitting on the couch.

 

“Kenma-san, can you help me do a tracking spell, please?”

 

Kenma snaps his DS closed and slides off the couch, leaving Kuroo to trail behind him. Akaashi gathers a personal effect of Bokuto’s while Kenma gets the other necessary supplies. Unable to do anything, Kuroo hovers. The tracking spell isn’t complex, just highly specific.

 

Dusk has fallen when they set out, flashlights in hand. Kenma leads, his face pinched in concentration. It doesn’t take much walking in the end, as Bokuto has wandered, but not far.

 

When they find him, he’s sitting with his back against a tree, eyes red as he smiles wanly up at them.

 

“C’mere you,” Kuroo murmurs, hauling Bokuto to his feet. He gets in one good hair ruffle before Akaashi takes over, looping an arm around Bokuto’s waist.

 

 None of them ask if he’s okay. Kenma slips Bokuto’s phone into his pocket, and Akaashi and Kuroo bracket him on either side. Akaashi is talking quietly, too quietly for Kuroo to hear, but he seems to have Bokuto’s weary attention.

 

Coaxing him into eating dinner is its own struggle. Kenma sits with him, subtly angling his game so that Bokuto can watch while he eats, narrating parts of the game. Akaashi makes a soothing tea, Kuroo hovering over his shoulder until Akaashi shoos him away.

 

“Bo, you should call your sister,” Kuroo says gently when the dishes are cleared.

 

The effect is instantaneous. Bokuto slouches down in his seat, shoulders drawn up to his ears.

 

“Don’t wanna.”

 

Kenma flicks a glare at Kuroo, who holds his arms up in surrender. It wasn’t intended to make Bokuto upset, he just feels bad that Bokuto’s sister is worried.

 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interjects, pressing the mug of tea into Bokuto’s hands. “Can I show you something?”

 

Subdued, Bokuto nods, bringing his tea with him as he shuffles after Akaashi. Akaashi’s room is neat, even with the extra futon they’ve acquired for Bokuto taking up extra real estate. He usually flip flops between Akaashi’s room and Kuroo’s, depending on the day and everyone’s moods.

 

“Sit and drink your tea,” Akaashi directs, crossing the room to open up one of his drawers.

 

Bokuto obeys, sipping the tea with a disgusted face.

 

“Here.”

 

Akaashi sits down beside him on the futon, passing over a photograph. Bokuto takes it with careful fingers, his brows pinching together.

 

It’s a picture of Akaashi, Kuroo, and Kenma. Kenma is in the middle, sandwiched between his two taller friends, looking slightly less put out than usual. Kuroo is grinning, and Akaashi looks relaxed, content even.

 

“This is my family,” Akaashi says quietly, knowing he has Bokuto’s full attention. “Some of us aren’t so lucky as to have loving and understanding blood relatives, and I understand.”

 

Bokuto makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat and Akaashi’s hands itch to hold him.

 

“I’m not going to make any assumptions. Call your sister, or don’t. I don’t know your life, Bokuto-san, but I do want you to be happy.”

 

Tears are slipping down Bokuto’s cheeks again, and Akaashi takes both the mug and the picture from him before disaster can strike. What comes out in bits and pieces is the story Bokuto has been withholding.

 

“My mom is… My dad left not long after Mio was born, and she… she was on her own. I wasn’t the easiest child,” he smiles self-deprecatingly. “It made things worse. She wasn’t—isn’t okay. I get my mood swings from her, I think.”

 

Wordlessly Akaashi offers his hand to Bokuto, palm up. With a shaky breath Bokuto threads their fingers together.

 

“It was good and bad. She had moments where she was loving but… I want things to be better for Mio. I worked a lot of part time jobs even in high school, doing all kinds of things,” he admits. “I’m good with my hands.”

 

Akaashi blinks as pieces come tumbling together in his mind. “You’re the one that fixed the sink. And that door. And the table.”

 

“Yeah. That kind of stuff helped cover the bills. But Mio is in college now and I help her with her school payments and living expenses.”

 

There’s a pause while Akaashi lets that sink in. Is that why Bokuto gets so wound up about his art? Because he uses it to pay his sister through college? Just the fact that he’s been doing this quietly without them knowing is insane.

 

“You’re an amazing person, you know that right Bokuto-san?”

 

“Me? Amazing? No, ‘Kaashi, you’ve got it backwards,” Bokuto protests, his mouth pulled downwards into an unhappy frown.

 

Akaashi gives him a flat look. “Bokuto Koutarou, you are far braver than I am, and I admire you for it. Please try to remember that.”

 

Bokuto’s gold eyes are wide as he takes that in. Akaashi fights the quiet voice in his head that tells him that anyone else would have been better at giving Bokuto this talk, because he has give Bokuto his best.

 

“Now, do you want to call your sister or not?”

 

“I do,” Bokuto mumbles, letting go of Akaashi’s hand so that he can dig his phone from the pocket Kenma stashed it in.

 

Akaashi takes the opportunity to stand. “I’m going to step out so you can have some privacy,” he says quietly, as Bokuto already has the phone up to his ear.

 

He gets less than a step before a hand closes around his wrist and he’s faced with Bokuto’s pleading expression. It says _stay_ , and Bokuto gives the slightest tug to drive it home. Akaashi swallows the sudden surge of emotions and sits next to Bokuto on the futon. He didn’t really want to be privy to this conversation because it’s not his business, but he’s so close now that he can hear every word.

 

“KOUTAROU,” blasts out of the phone and Bokuto sniffs with a sheepish smile.

 

“Hi Mio-chan. I’m sorry I missed your calls.”

 

“I was worried,” whines the female voice on the other end.

 

Dryly, Akaashi thinks that they are definitely related.

 

“I’m sorry, I was just…” Bokuto trails off and ducks his head, turning his hand over restlessly in his lap until Akaashi traps it again between his own.

 

It earns him a tiny smile that definitely doesn’t make Akaashi’s heart do stupid things.

 

“I know, Oniisan, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to fret so much about me, you have your own life.”

 

“I’m going to look out for you, Mio,” he says stubbornly.

 

“Okay, okay Kou. But you’re doing things for yourself now right?”

 

Bokuto flicks Akaashi a look that he can’t read, “I am.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll skype you later this week?”

 

Mio hums a confirmation. “I love you Kou.”

 

“Love you too, Mio,” he whispers back and hangs up.

 

Akaashi starts as arms wind around him, pulling him into a crushing hug.

 

“Thank you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto mumbles into his hair.

 

“You’re welcome,” Akaashi says softly, giving a gentle squeeze in return.

 

They’re on equal footing now, having seen each other at their respective lows. Akaashi feels a guilty about being comforted by that, but he also feels _known_ in a way he’s not used to. His friendship with Bokuto has evolved from something tentative and new into a lifeline for both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Akaashi, _please_ ,” Kuroo begs.

 

Kenma is a mess in his arms, oozing blood and eyelids shuttered. Akaashi swallows, his mouth overly dry.

 

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I have nothing left.”

 

They were not prepared for the type of demon they encountered tonight. Akaashi has no strength to use for healing, having spent all of it to banish the demon and save their lives.

 

The noise Kuroo makes is just shy of a keen and Akaashi feels his resolve crumble. Bokuto, however, is surprisingly calm.

 

“Akaashi,” he says, and Akaashi flinches back from the faith he hears in that tone. “You always say I have a lot of energy, right? Take some and use it to heal Kenma.”

 

He sounds so calm, so reasonable even as he suggests something that has been drilled into Akaashi’s head for years as too dangerous to risk.

 

“Bokuto-san, it’s one thing to amplify. Actually giving over energy is something entirely different,” Akaashi protests.

 

Kuroo’s shoulders are curled inwards as he cradles Kenma in his lap. Bokuto is unsmiling, but his gaze is steady.

 

“I know. Do it anyway. I trust you, Akaashi.”

 

Akaashi swallows any further protests because they have no other options. “Hands on my shoulders please.”

 

Bokuto complies, and Akaashi can’t help but feel reassured by their familiar weight. It’s too easy to concentrate on the perpetual thrum of Bokuto’s energy and draw from it. Akaashi acts as a conduit, guiding the energy into a healing shape as he works on Kenma. Herbs from his bag supplement, but most of it is solely the magic.

 

Kuroo is silent and tense, keeping track of Kenma’s vitals.

 

It isn’t until the hands drop abruptly away from his shoulders that Akaashi realizes he’s probably done enough. Bokuto has crumpled backwards, eyes barely open and hazy as he fights to remain conscious.

 

“Shit,” Kuroo hisses, his eyes torn away from Kenma. “Bo?”

 

Several seconds pass before Akaashi can think clearly. He twists, panicked, to look at Bokuto but the amplifier is out cold by the time he manages.

 

Icy fear washes over him, drowning out rational thought. Drawing from someone else’s energy is dangerous because you can accidentally drain their entire life force. Even if it doesn’t go that far, not everyone recovers well from that kind of energy loss.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Kuroo’s sharp voice cuts through his panic.

 

Akaashi doesn’t have to opportunity to protest when Kuroo presses a now semi-conscious Kenma into his arms.

 

“You take Kenma, Bokuto is stupidly heavy and you’re beat.”

 

“It’s my fault.”

 

“My idiot best friend may have just given up his life force to save the person I love. I’m going to have to put a hold on your guilty monologue, Akaashi.”

 

Stunned, Akaashi shuts his mouth and adjusts his burden. Kenma isn’t light, but he’s nowhere near as heavy as the dead weight Kuroo has to lug out of the building. The borrowed car being close is a small mercy.

 

“Where are we going?” Akaashi asks quietly.

 

Bokuto is tucked against his side and Kenma’s head is in his lap. Kuroo is at the wheel, knuckles white.

 

“Home.”  
  


Relief is a gut punch and Akaashi lets all the air whoosh out of his lungs. They’ve been traveling a lot recently and haven’t spent much time at the apartment that’s more of a home than where Akaashi was raised.

 

The car is quiet for a while, and then Kuroo speaks up.

 

“I’m going to kill that guy when I get ahold of him, he misled us on what kind of demon we were dealing with.”

 

Akaashi smiles, and it’s a chilling thing. “Allow me.”

 

Kuroo glances back at him, his own lips curling into something sinister. “Give him hell.”

 

*

 

There isn’t much they can do once they reach the apartment. Akaashi wearily uses traditional medicine to clean up the smaller nicks and cuts on Kenma that he didn’t heal magically. Kuroo settles an unconscious Bokuto into his own bed, citing that the three of them needed to sleep more than he does.

 

Once everyone is knocked out, Kuroo sinks down on the couch to collect himself. He’s surprised Akaashi fell asleep at all, but it seems even Akaashi’s stubbornness can’t win out against exhaustion. Akaashi, for all that he doesn’t express much on his face, looked ready to crumble inwards with guilt.

 

Admittedly, Kuroo feels about the same. It’s heavy on his shoulders, now that Kenma is resting safely. He almost lost both of them, Kenma and Bokuto, tonight. He can’t decide what’s worse, that he let Bokuto take the risk, or that he doesn’t think he would have been brave enough to do the same if the situations were reversed.

 

The tears spill over hot and fast, blurring his vision. He swipes ineffectually at one or two, and then gives up entirely, letting them wash over his face. Kuroo is quiet about it, curling in on himself so that the sobs shuddering through him aren’t audible. The last thing he wants is to wake up any of his friends.

 

Eventually his overwhelming emotions wear themselves out and he makes a cup of tea, curling up on the couch with the television volume on low.

 

Time drags while Kuroo sits vigil, but eventually Akaashi emerges from his room, looking no better for his few hours of sleep.

 

“They’re both still out cold,” Akaashi says when Kuroo opens his mouth.

 

“I figured as much.”

 

It doesn’t surprise Kuroo that Akaashi checked, but it does surprise him that he didn’t stay with Bokuto. The only reason he himself isn’t sitting beside Kenma is because Kenma is an extremely light sleeper, and Kuroo doesn’t want to risk waking him with his breakdown.

 

Akaashi flops down on the opposite end of the couch, tucking his legs up under him. He regards Kuroo for a long moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and the puffy redness of his eyes.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Kuroo tangles his fingers together in an attempt to avoid making eye contact. “I guess. I wasn’t the one that nearly died.”

 

Akaashi is not a touchy person, but he pokes the side of Kuroo’s thigh with his toes. It’s an admonishment and reassurance all wrapped into one.

 

“No, but Kenma almost did.”

 

“So did Bokuto,” Kuroo shoots back because he’s still so raw about this.

 

Akaashi’s face tightens, and yeah, that might have been a low blow.

 

“You love Kenma, don’t you?” Akaashi says more gently than Kuroo probably deserves right now.

 

“He’s my best friend,” Kuroo deflects.

 

The stare Akaashi fixes him with is flat. “You literally said you love him.”

 

“Fuck, did I really?” Kuroo groans.

 

Akaashi’s expression is a mixture of exasperation and sympathy. “You should tell him.”

 

“Are you crazy? And lose him as my best friend?”

 

“Kuroo Tetsurou, he’s never going to willingly leave your side, okay? He’s not."

 

Akaashi’s voice has risen in volume and he catches himself, embarrassed.

 

Kuroo offers a small smile so that Akaashi will know he’s not mad. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. But if you’re gonna press me about Kenma, then you should talk to Bokuto.”

 

Any other time that would have earned him one of Akaashi’s iciest glares, but now his friend just looks tired.

 

“I have a lot of things to think about as well.”

 

They split off to the respective rooms, and Kuroo sinks down as quietly as he can manage on the floor next to Kenma’s bed. Time passes as he mulls over what Akaashi said and he drifts off, head leaned against the side of the futon.

  
He wakes to gentle fingers tugging through his bangs. When he gets his eyes open, Kenma is regarding him, exhausted but alert.

 

Kuroo is up immediately, sliding into a spot on the edge of the futon. “How are you feeling?”

 

Kenma gives a tiny shrug. “I should have died, so this is better than anything.”

 

It’s a punch to the chest, to hear it confirmed out loud. Kuroo leans forward and lets his forehead rest lightly against Kenma’s collarbone. Kenma gets a handful of his t-shirt and hangs on.

 

“How?” he asks quietly.

 

“Akaashi and Bokuto. Mostly Bo though. Akaashi was too burnt out to heal you, so Bo gave him the energy to do it.”

 

Kenma gives a displeased hiss. “He’s alright?”

 

A miserable shrug. “He’s alive. Akaashi thinks it might be days before his energies finally get back to normal. He’s out cold.”

 

“He’s an idiot,” Kenma sighs softly.

 

His mouth is so close to Kuroo’s ear that Kuroo can feel the soft exhale tickling him.

 

“He is, but I owe him. I’m sorry, Kenma.”

 

The words are spoken at a whisper and Kenma tenses, his grip on Kuroo’s shirt tightening.

 

“You’re an idiot too,” he says flatly.

 

Kuroo winces, but Kenma is having none. He leverages his grip on Kuroo, dragging him down onto the futon and Kuroo has to perform contortions to avoid squishing his witch.

 

“Kenma—” he protests, but Kenma is already rearranging so that he can curl up against Kuroo, gingerly minding his injuries.

 

Golden eyes follow him closely as he settles his head on Kenma’s extra pillow. “I know you haven’t slept, Kuro.”

 

It’s a scolding, even if Kenma’s tone hasn’t changed.

 

Drawing a shuddering breath, Kuroo lets the last bit of tension eek out of his shoulders and inevitably a few tears slip free. Kenma is quiet and patient, one of his small hands coming to rest along the side of Kuroo’s neck as they face towards each other.

 

“Kenma?”

 

“Mmmm?”

 

“You know I love you, right? As more than a friend?”

 

He can’t help it. In the wake of nearly losing him and Akaashi’s gentle push, it just spills out of his mouth.

 

The silence is near deadly.

 

Kenma is avoiding his gaze, and Kuroo swallows hard. “Ah. I—never mind,” he mumbles just to break the quiet.

 

“Can we talk about this _not_ right after I’ve nearly died,” Kenma says.

 

Kuroo forcibly contains his wince, mustering up his trademark smirk. “Yeah of course.”

 

His chest aches because he knows the answer now. If it was a simple ‘me too’ Kenma would have just said it outright.

 

He wants to disappear and skulk back to the couch to nurse his heartbreak, but that’s not fair to Kenma so he stays, watching his friend drift back off.  Everything else can come later as long as Kenma is alive.

 

*

 

Akaashi, the only one awake to bear witness, mercifully keeps silent about Kuroo’s misery as the three of them cohabitate the kitchen rather awkwardly. He also vacates the main living space the moment he realizes a serious conversation is about to go down, indicated by the intense looks Kenma has been fixing Kuroo with.

 

“Kuro,” Kenma gets his attention, brow slightly furrowed.

 

Kuroo, realizing Akaashi has fled, swallows hard. He’s been keeping his feelings on lock since last night, but it’s eating away at him alongside the guilt.

 

“Yeah Kenma? What’s up?” he says, and thinks it sounds passably normal.

 

Kenma full on frowns at him. “I…you know I…” he struggles, clearly at a loss for words.

 

Kuroo knows what this is.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything and I probably messed things up and you’re mad at me,” he mumbles, and god the words just won’t stop coming.

 

“Kuro—” Kenma tries to interrupt, but Kuroo is still going.

 

“I’m really happy being friends with you so that’s okay. Forget I said it.”

 

“Tetsurou,” Kenma says with force, and Kuroo freezes mid-sentence.

 

“Huh?”

 

Kenma’s face is scrunched up in concentration and spots of red are blossoming on his cheeks. It’s an unusual look for him since it takes a lot to get a rise out of Kenma.

 

“You know I feel the same, right?”

 

The whole world slows down and Kuroo can’t seem to make sense of anything. All he can manage is an extremely unintelligent ‘ngghhhh?’

 

Kenma scowls, now significantly frustrated, and gives Kuroo’s t-shirt an insistent downward tug. On instinct Kuroo looks down, only to find Kenma surging up to meet him. They collide in the middle, Kenma determined and Kuroo in shock.

 

It’s a clumsy first kiss, but Kuroo gathers the scattered bits of his brain and draws Kenma in. Kenma is soft, and pliant, and stupidly good at kissing for someone who doesn’t like to put a lot of effort into things.

 

When they separate for air Kuroo is grinning like a fool. “I got it now.”

 

“Do you?” Kenma rolls his eyes, but the affection in his tone and the way he’s still hanging onto Kuroo’s t-shirt gives him away.

 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says softly, reaching a hand up to card it through Kenma’s bleached hair. “I love you.”

 

Kenma turns a furious shade of red. “Love you too,” he mumbles.

 

Kuroo’s chest feels like it’s going to burst with pure joy, and he’s giddy with it. He presses a kiss to the top of Kenma’s head, then his cheek, then his nose until Kenma scrunches it up.

 

“You’re so sappy.”

 

“You knew that and kissed me anyway,” Kuroo says gleefully.

 

Kenma huffs and leans into Kuroo, letting his head rest against Kuroo’s chest. Several heartbeats pass and then Kenma pulls back.

 

“We should help Akaashi.”

 

Reality returns swiftly, and Kuroo’s stomach drops. Wordlessly, he follows Kenma to where Akaashi has holed up in his room, herbs spread out everywhere. Tinny voices can be heard in the background, which means Akaashi has someone on skype.

 

Kuroo raps lightly on the doorframe and Akaashi looks up, acknowledging their presence before going back to what he was doing. Kenma slides in next to him, giving a small nod to whoever is on the laptop screen.

 

“Asahi-san, are you certain that this is the right mixture?” Akaashi prompts, his face set and serious.

 

“I—uh I’m pretty certain,” Asahi waffles.

 

Ah, it’s the Karasuno group.

 

“He’s certain, Akaashi-san. He’s just a nervous wreck,” another voice cuts in.

 

That would be Sugawara Koushi, another witch they’ve come to know. His talents lie more in reading people, and he’s generally categorized as a medium even if it’s not entirely accurate.

 

Kuroo leans so that he can see the screen, and grins when he spots a third person in the back of the feed.

 

“Sawamura!”

 

Akaashi flicks him an irritated look, but Sugawara is grinning as Sawamura comes into the foreground.

 

“Kuroo,” he greets. “Your hair is a mess.”

 

Kuroo sticks his tongue out.

 

“Anyway,” Akaashi cuts in sharply. “If you think this will help, I’ll try it. Thank you for your help, Asahi-san.”

 

Asahi waves him off with a nervous flap of his hand.

 

“Please let us know when Bokuto-san wakes up,” Sugawara says.

 

Akaashi promises that they will. Bokuto is easy to like, and people take to him quickly, the Karasuno group included.

 

The call ends, and Kuroo stretches a hand out to Kenma. “Nap?”

 

Kenma blinks but takes the offered hand, allowing Kuroo to reel him in and drop a kiss on the top of his head. Akaashi’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline, but he’s pleased. He may be stressed and a tiny bit jealous of their intimacy, but he’s happy for his friends.

 

“Please go be disgustingly cute elsewhere, Kuroo-san,” he deadpans.

 

Kuroo grins at him before it softens into something kinder.

 

“You’re next,” he hums, and then tugs Kenma away to nap, leaving Akaashi to hunch over his spells.

 

*

 

Bokuto is unconscious for nearly two days. Akaashi knows, because he’s keeping careful track of the time passing. He’s concocted several different spells and mixtures to speed up the process, but so far they’ve yielded nothing.

 

He sighs as he sinks down into the chair Kuroo thoughtfully pulled over from his desk. Akaashi has been the one spending the most time keeping watch over Bokuto, but Kuroo and Kenma do too. Kuroo hasn’t shaken the guilt Akaashi has seen clinging to him despite Kenma’s best efforts.

 

Nothing, he thinks, will be okay until Bokuto is awake.

 

Absently he leans forward and cards his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. It’s softer than it should be, without all the gel that normally keeps it spiked upwards. He’s been at it only a minute or two when Bokuto a soft noise.

 

Akaashi freezes where his fingers were in the midst of pulling Bokuto’s messy strands back from his face, and suddenly he’s looking into half-lidded golden eyes.

 

He doesn’t dare to breathe, holding himself in place as Bokuto drags himself the whole way into the waking world. And of course, because he’s Bokuto, he does it with a rather loud noise of complaint.

 

“Bokuto-san, are you alright?” he asks, and those owl-like eyes latch onto him.

 

“Did good, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto mumbles the question.

 

“Yes, you did good,” Akaashi reassures him even though he wants to cry from relief.

 

The apartment has been eerily silent with Bokuto down for the count, magnifying the torture of the waiting. Even though it’s raspy with disuse, hearing Bokuto’s voice is a relief.

 

Bokuto nuzzles into Akaashi’s hand sleepily, a pleased smile on his face.

 

“Don’t go back to sleep, I have tea for you,” Akaashi murmurs, sitting back and withdrawing his hand reluctantly. “You gave us a scare.”

 

“Are you going to leave? Don’t leave,” Bokuto says, his face pinching.

 

Akaashi intended to get up and get the tea, but now he stays put, twisting in his chair. “Kuroo-san? Kenma-san?”

 

It’s a louder tone than he usually uses, pitched so that they’ll hear him. Kuroo is at the door in a heartbeat, urgency in his face until he realizes Bokuto is awake.

 

“Bo!” he cries, flinging himself on top of his friend. “You stupid idiot!”

 

Kenma is a few steps behind him and looks no less relieved. Kuroo sounds suspiciously like he’s crying again as he smothers Bokuto. Akaashi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Bokuto is a sympathetic crier and is now crying almost as hard as Kuroo is. Kenma just looks tired.

 

“Koutarou,” Kenma says, interrupting the tear fest.

 

Both Bokuto and Kuroo blink at him, eyes wide and watery. Kenma doesn’t falter.

 

“Thank you.”

 

If he wasn’t so drained, Bokuto would have definitely tackled Kenma with a hug. As it is, he holds his arms out demandingly until Kenma caves and shuffles over, suffering a whole ten seconds of hugging before he flees the room.

 

Kuroo lingers a little longer to deliver a lecture that Akaashi pretends not to hear. He knows Kuroo is upset, and Bokuto was admittedly just a bit of a self-sacrificing fool, but Akaashi is also to blame. Because Bokuto couldn’t have done what he’d done without Akaashi.  

 

“You’re an idiot and if you pull anything like that I’ll kick your ass,” Kuroo huffs, and then his face softens. “Thank you, Bo.”

 

Bokuto smiles, a crooked and unapologetic thing that makes Akaashi’s chest tight.

 

“You’re my best friend Kuroo, and so is Kenma. I’d definitely do it again if I had to.”

 

Kuroo grumbles, tugging on a stray strand of Bokuto’s hair. “What the hell did I just say?”

 

“You might as well give it up, Kuroo-san. He’ll never learn,” Akaashi comments quietly from the far side of the room.

 

Two sets of eyes settle on his face and Akaashi shrugs. “Besides, I helped him, so you should probably yell at me too.”

 

Kuroo gives him a long, considering look and pushes at his own messy bangs in frustration. “The both of you are a pain in my ass, at least Kenma is nice to me.”

 

He stomps out, pretending to be in a put-out, but the look he throws over his shoulder is nothing short of pure affection. Bokuto watches him go, blinking sleepily before his attention shifts.

 

“’Kaashi…. Are they finally dating?”

 

Akaashi smiles thoughtfully to himself. “Kuroo-san and Kenma-san? Yes, I think so.”

 

Bokuto sighs dramatically, letting his arm flop over his face. “Thank god. Kuroo wouldn’t stop whining about it.”

 

Head tilted, Akaashi prompts him to elaborate with a small hand gesture. Bokuto of course is happy to keep talking, even if he’s only half awake.

 

“It was all, ‘hey Bo isn’t Kenma so cute?’ and ‘Bo do you think Kenma likes me?’” Bokuto imitates Kuroo in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, yawning somewhere in the middle.

 

Smothering a smile, Akaashi shakes his head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore.”

 

Skeptical, Bokuto covers another yawn and that’s enough for Akaashi.

 

“I’m going to get you something to eat, Bokuto-san, and then you’re going to rest some more.”

 

“But Akaashiiiiii,” Bokuto whines. “I don’t want to sleep anymore.”

 

“Well, you’re not doing anything else until your energy is replenished,” Akaashi says firmly.

 

This elicits more whining, but Akaashi is holds firm. And if he babies Bokuto just a little more than usual, Kuroo is kind enough to at least only call him out on it in private.

 

*

 

“Kurooooooo,” Bokuto pleads, waving the laptop invitingly.

 

Kuroo scrunches his face up reluctantly. “Why do _I_ have to watch that stupid unsolved show with you? They never see any of the real stuff anyway.”

 

“Because it’s funny! And Akaashi refuses to watch it with me.”

 

Ah, there it is. It seems that this is where Akaashi draws the line when it comes to indulging Bokuto. Go figure that he leaves it to Kuroo to suffer this one. Kuroo tries for some sympathy from Kenma and unsurprisingly gets none.

 

“No,” Kenma says flatly.

 

He has about as much interest in watching the show as Akaashi does. Neither of them sees a point in wasting their time watching a watered-down version of what they do for a living.

 

“Fine, but only because I love you Bo,” Kuroo caves, bringing his bag of snacks over to where Bokuto has been permanently camped on the couch.

 

He does feel bad that Bokuto is basically on house arrest. After two days of being out cold, his energy levels have been slowly recovering over the course of a week. Akaashi is a strict jailer, and Bokuto is starting to get stir crazy.

 

“Yeah!” Bokuto cheers, angling the laptop so Kuroo can see as he queues up the next episode.

 

Kenma curls up at Kuroo’s other side, using his shoulder as a pillow as he works through a level on his latest game.

 

“Oikawa is kind of annoying,” Kuroo observes in the first couple of minutes.

 

Bokuto giggles. “He and Iwaizumi are so good together though. Even though they deny that they’re dating.”

 

“Pfft, they are totally dating,” Kuroo scoffs. “Look at how lovingly Iwaizumi looks at him. It’s so sappy I’m gonna puke.”

 

They toss comments back and forth until Kuroo starts jabbing his finger frantically at the screen.

 

“Isn’t that Suga?”

 

“Huh?” Bokuto says, leaning forward to look.

 

“OH SHIT that’s Sawamura so that definitely has to be Suga,” Kuroo is practically bouncing off the couch now.

 

Kenma lifts his head, sparing the laptop screen a glance. “Yeah, that’s Shouyou’s house.”

 

Kuroo and Bokuto both whip around to stare at him. Kenma shrugs, unimpressed.

 

“He and Kageyama have a ghost problem. He asked if I would do the ritual but I didn’t want to travel all the way out there.”

 

Bokuto’s mouth drops open. “YOU MEAN WE MISSED OUT ON THE CHANCE TO BE ON THEIR CHANNEL?”

 

Kenma winces at his volume, flashing him a distasteful look. “Yes.”

 

Kuroo groans. “Okay, I think they’re idiots but wouldn’t it have been cool to be on a famous Youtube Kenma?”

 

“Too late now, isn’t it?” is Kenma’s blasé answer.

 

Needless to say, Bokuto sulks about it full a full three days until Akaashi distracts him.

 

*

 

The evolution of Akaashi and Bokuto’s relationship is a little slower than Kuroo and Kenma’s. They don’t have that shared history, and honestly, they’re different people.

 

Even though Bokuto dives into things head first, Akaashi is cautious and prone to silently second-guessing himself. And unlike Bokuto, who vocalizes most of his worries, it’s hard to tell when Akaashi has fallen somewhere into his own mind.

 

Bokuto gets better at figuring it out though. He’s single minded like that, putting his all into things.

 

“You could just ask him out, you know,” Kuroo says one night as he handily kicks Bokuto’s ass at Mario Kart.

 

Bokuto usually spends half the game leaning into Kuroo to throw him off, but tonight he is stationary, pinned to his seat.

 

“No I can’t,” Bokuto disagrees, even though he desperately wants to. His respect for Akaashi has kept him quiet even as his feelings have grown.

 

“And why not?” Kuroo humors him, eyes sharp on the screen.

 

Bokuto shrugs, restless hands tangling around the controller. “Because if he wanted to go out with me, he’d ask.”

 

Kuroo pauses the game to look at him in surprise and Bokuto offers him a lopsided smile.

 

“That’s an admirable line of thought, Bo,” he muses. “But you forget that Akaashi is prone to second-guessing himself too.”

 

“Do you think I have a shot then?” Bokuto asks, and Kuroo wants to hug him.

 

“Yeah Bo. I wouldn’t pounce on him, but keep what I said in mind, okay?”

 

Bokuto bobs his head enthusiastically. “I will.”

 

*

 

“Hey hey hey, ’Kaashi, you’re thinking too hard,” Bokuto chides one night when Akaashi is up late, racking his brain over a spell.

 

“Bokuto-san, I really don’t—” he protests, and is cut off by Bokuto’s large hands dropping onto his shoulders.

 

Bokuto smooths his palms along the slope of them before digging his thumbs gently into the base of Akaashi’s neck. He finds and works patiently through one knot before moving onto the next.

 

“You should have some tea,” he comments idly, and Akaashi is floored by just how casual Bokuto has become with his touches over the last few months. “I don’t know much about spells, but I do know what it looks like when you’ve thought yourself into a corner.”

 

Akaashi scowls at his book as he leans back into those warm hands. He’s known Bokuto for nearly a year now, and it shouldn’t surprise him that while he was becoming proficient at reading him, Bokuto was doing the same.

 

“Have not,” he mutters petulantly.

 

A chuckle sounds behind him and Akaashi knows he’s fooled no one, especially not himself. Bokuto lets him stew on it for a minute or two before stooping to let his chin rest on the top of Akaashi’s head.

 

“The world won’t end if you set it aside until tomorrow. A fresh approach might help."

 

It’s supremely irritating when Bokuto spits up bits of wisdom at random points. Akaashi wants to argue farther on it, but the warm weight pinning him in his chair dissuades him.

 

“Alright, I’ll go to bed,” he concedes.

 

Bokuto hums a pleased noise and eases off of him. Akaashi stands as well with a groan. When he turns to go to his room, he nearly slams right into Bokuto, who’s watching him with sleepy affection.

 

“You should have gone to bed ages ago,” Akaashi notes sternly.

 

“If I didn’t wait up, you probably would have stayed up all night,” Bokuto defends himself.

 

That is… probably true. Akaashi allows himself a moment to just study Bokuto in the low light of the kitchen. He’s filled out a bit since they first met, thanks to Kuroo’s enthusiasm about having a gym partner. And he’s still on the taller end of the spectrum, with a handful of centimeters on Akaashi.

  
But he _feels_ different.

 

Bokuto is still a powerful amplifier, a goofy friend, and endlessly enthusiastic. He’s the illumination Akaashi needed to see the way, but Akaashi thinks that he’s given Bokuto something in return. Because Bokuto is content and that makes Akaashi happy too.

 

“Hey Bokuto-san?” he says, trying not to let the way their chests are nearly brushing distract him.

 

“Yeah ‘Kaashi?”

 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Bokuto makes a noise like all the wind has been knocked out of him. In hindsight, that may have been rather blunt.

 

But hands reach up to oh so carefully cup Akaashi’s cheeks and he dares hope as Bokuto gets his breath back.

 

“That’s good, because I’m definitely in love with you,” Bokuto says, voice rough but a smile bright enough to rival the sun on his face.

 

“Koutarou,” Akaashi says, shaping his name like a direction. _Kiss me_.

 

“Keiji,” Bokuto whispers back as he leans in, capturing Akaashi’s mouth with careful intent.

 

Akaashi kisses him back, amused by how gentle Bokuto is being. He derails that by coaxing Bokuto’s lips apart with his tongue and then thoroughly conquering his mouth. They’re both breathless when they break apart, Akaashi smug and Bokuto wide-eyed.

 

“Bed,” Akaashi says, giving Bokuto a nudge.

 

Bokuto goes, still stunned from the kiss. His futon his currently in Kuroo’s room, where Kuroo and Kenma are presumably asleep. He hesitates at the door until Akaashi catches his hand and tugs him along.

 

“We can share.”

 

“Cuddle?” Bokuto says hopefully, remembering just in time to keep his voice down.

 

“Yes, we can cuddle.”

 

Bokuto gives his hand a squeeze in place of presumably yelling his joy. Akaashi collapses onto his futon, followed by Bokuto who loses the argument over who gets to be the big spoon. Buzzing with warmth, Akaashi drapes his arm around Bokuto’s waist and nuzzles his nose into the soft fabric of his boyfriend(?)’s t-shirt.

 

He smells like deodorant, clean laundry, and _home_.

 

*

 

“Tetsurou,” Kenma murmurs, prodding the exposed shoulder.

 

His boyfriend is fast asleep, taking up the whole of the futon. It’s partially Kenma’s fault for sending him to bed early while he stayed up playing a game, but he hadn’t expected Kuroo to take up every available inch of space.

 

He can hear Akaashi and Bokuto moving in the hallway, and he knows that Bokuto’s futon is in here.

 

Kenma gives Kuroo’s shoulder a harder shake, only to realize that both sets of footsteps have gone into Akaashi’s room.

 

Kuroo groans and stirs at last, squinting blearily in Kenma’s general direction. “What, kitten?” he mumbles, only semi-coherent.

 

“You’re hogging the futon,” Kenma tells him flatly.

 

There’s some grumbling but Kuroo moves, reeling in his gangly limbs and making a spot at his side that Kenma claims immediately. Kuroo radiates heat like a furnace and Kenma loves it. He gets comfortable curled up as the little spoon, adjusting Kuroo’s arms around him until they sit just where he likes them.

 

“Tetsu?”

 

“Kenma?” Kuroo mumbles in response, already starting to drift back off.

 

“You know Koutarou’s futon is in here right?"

 

There’s a long pause punctuated by a muffled swear. Kenma huffs a laugh.

 

“They both went into Keiji’s room, I heard them.”

 

“Oh ho?” Kuroo sounds a touch more awake now.

 

“I win the bet if they’re together when we wake up.”

 

“That’s no fair, you know they have to share a futon either way tonight,” Kuroo complains into Kenma’s neck.

 

The puffs of his breath tickle Kenma’s neck.

 

“Sore loser.”

 

“I’ll show you a sore loser,” Kuroo growls playfully.

 

Kenma, knowing he’s absolutely about to get tickled to death, tangles his fingers with Kuroo’s. The kiss he places on the back of one of Kuroo’s hands is as much affection as it is tactics.

 

Kuroo, like the sap he is, settles down at the gesture and is snoring quietly into his hair in minutes. Kenma lets the quiet soundtrack of his breathing lull him to sleep. He really hopes his friends have finally gotten it together.

 

*

 

Bokuto paints something new and in secret, whisking it away every time his roommates try and get a glimpse of it. Only Akaashi leaves him alone, because if Bokuto is managing to keep his mouth shut about it, then it’s worth the wait. If only to make Bokuto happy about being able to surprise them.

 

It’s easy to tell how it’s going by keeping tabs on his moods. Akaashi picks paint out of his hair after a particularly frustrating day. (Unbeknownst to Akaashi, Bokuto is upset that he can’t seem to capture Akaashi’s face quite right.)

 

But for all his secreting and excitement, Bokuto is surprisingly shy about revealing it to them.

 

“I hope you don’t mind that I added myself,” he mumbles in prelude, and then flips the canvas around.

 

Akaashi feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

 

It’s their picture. There are obvious changes, but the feel is the same.

 

In it, Akaashi and Kenma are in the middle, with Bokuto and Kuroo curling around them on the ends like parentheses. Bokuto has given himself his trademark grin and his arm is curled around Akaashi’s waist. Akaashi is smiling too, a small thing that’s akin to the one he’s painted for Kenma.

 

It suits them, Akaashi thinks, as his eyes slide further right. Painted Kuroo is beaming as well, his arm around Kenma’s shoulder and the four of them look happy. And so, so real that Akaashi almost has to double check himself that it isn’t a memory.

 

Kuroo is the first to find his voice, “It’s amazing, Bo.”

 

Bokuto catches Akaashi’s eyes for a moment and then tips his head back as he smiles. “Yeah, it is. But only because you guys are amazing. And I love you, like a lot.”

 

“You’re a sap,” Kenma says, but he’s smiling anyway.

 

Bokuto doesn’t press Akaashi for his opinion and lets himself get caught up as they find a space in the living room to hang it. It isn’t until they’re curled up on Akaashi’s futon that night that he asks.

 

“Do you like it, Keiji? When you showed me that picture all that time ago, it just stuck with me.”

 

His approximation of a whisper is pretty bad, but Akaashi forgives him for it.

 

“I like it a lot, Koutarou,” he hums, sneaking a kiss onto the tip of Bokuto’s nose.

 

Bokuto squirms happily at the attention, and the unspoken ‘I love you too’ can be found amongst the kisses Akaashi peppers all over his face. He loves his found family more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone that read through this accidental monster, thanks and I hope you enjoyed <3

**Author's Note:**

> as always my inbox is open @carry-a-world on tumblr, I love these stupid boys and will yell about them forever.


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